Edit as of 10-5-11: Hello! Thank you for clicking on my story! If you are a new reader, I feel obligated to tell you that chapters 1 through 4 are season two, chapters 5-30 are over the summer, head-cannon kinds of stories (strong OC involvement) and if you're looking for season two, it starts after chapter 31. Thanks again and I hope you enjoy!

This really is nothing more than the result of a lot of pent-up creative energy. It's silly and kind of stupid, but cute. Enjoy!

She was having a pretty good day. That is, she was having a good day until she opened the door to her house, and was about to make her way to the kitchen when she almost stepped on her brother.

Her confident, put-together, straight-and-narrow, dapper-as-hell brother was flat on his back in the middle of the floor. His shoes were in a pile by his feet like he had just fallen there and kicked them off; his blue blazer was hanging off the arm of the couch, obviously just having been tossed there; his eyes were closed tightly and his ear-buds were in, his phone sitting on his chest.

She rolled her eyes.

Slowly, she walked over to him and waved a hand over his face. Sighing impatiently, she tapped his shoulder with the toe of her shoe, and he sprang up. A single ear-bud fell out into his lap, and from it she could hear a familiar show tune.

"Cats?" she asked, crossing her arms. "You haven't seen that play in six years."

He sighed sadly, and looked down at his phone, pausing the song. "It's a classic," he mumbled. "It's Webber." He lay back on the floor with a sigh. "Webber's a genius."

"Agreed, but don't you think 'Memory' is just a little melodramatic?" She raised an eyebrow and leaned over him.

"It is not melodramatic. It is a perfect representation of how I'm feeling at this moment." He crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes again, reaching for his phone.

She was faster.

"He's changing schools, man," she said as she grabbed the chord to his ear-buds, and the phone along with them. "Not going to the Heaviside Layer."

"Leaving that courtyard was the most difficult thing I have ever done…" he whined.

"Dude…" A hand flew to her temple.

"And then…and he said he'd never say goodbye…" He let out a shaky breath. "…and then I had to…"

"Oh, my gosh, just…" She put a hand in the air in attempt to stop his rambling.

"And then—God, Wes and David!—they wouldn't stop talking…"

"They're your friends, I'm sure they were just trying to help—" she began to offer, before being cut off by another strained garble by the pitiful shell of something resembling her brother on the floor.

"They brought up 'Blackbird'…" he groaned.

"Oh, God, I thought they were your friends?" She cursed the boys in her head, promising to let them baby-sit him the next time anything happened to make him sad.

He let out a noise that sounded somewhere between a moan and a whine and reached half-heartedly for his phone, a lazy hand grabbing at the air.

She could never let anything make him sad again. This was too painful…mostly because she couldn't stand seeing her brother upset, but also because she was fighting with every ounce of restraint she had not to record all of this and put it on Facebook.

"Wait!" she almost screamed, but her brother's only reaction was to cover his face with his hands.

Oh, for the love of God.

"Dude, school got out two hours ago! Why aren't you two sitting at your little coffee shop, making the rest of this town uncomfortable with your no doubt incessant PDA?" She smiled cheekily. "Or here, so I could finally meet him!"

He stared at her through his fingers. Even through one eye she could easily read his 'you-are-so-no-helping' look.

"I'm just asking."

"Barbaravention," he grumbled.

"I…w-what the f—?"

"I don't even know." He shook his head and sighed.

She stared down at him for another second.

"Get off the floor." She said it kindly, but it was a command none the less.

"No. I like the change of perspective. It helps me see things in a different light."

"I said get your metaphorical ass off the floor." She crossed her arms. "You won't get your phone until you're vertical."

"I don't care anymore…" he sighed, putting his hands behind his head.

"Oh would you stop being so freakin' dramatic! You will see him in twenty-four—!" But then something stopped her.

His phone was buzzing.

Yes.

Someone was calling her brother.

YES.

It was the boyfriend.

YES!

The lump on the floor didn't notice.

This could not have been more perfect.

Without hesitation, she flicked the phone on and said brightly, "Hello, Blaine's phone, who's this?"

There was complete silence other than the creak of the floor as her brother sat up. She ran.

"Uh…hi," a surprised sounding voice squeaked on the other end as she bolted down the hall and locked the door to her room. "It's Kurt."

"Hey, Kurt!" she said loudly, speaking to the door, just as the sound of running stopped, and the crack of a fist on wood rang through the house.

"OPEN THE DOOR, DEL!" her brother screamed.

"In a minute, Blaine! I'm just trying figure this guy out." She sat on her bed and spoke into the phone again. "I apologize, for that."

"Um…" the voice on the other end stuttered.

"So, tell me about yourself, Kurt."

"Um…"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Adele, but you can just call me Del if you want. I'm the annoying little sister." She smiled despite knowing he wouldn't see it. She could hear Blaine pacing and mumbling outside.

"Right…hi."

She rolled her eyes. "We've gotten past that, buddy, now spill. I need to know get to know you! You sing, that's fairly obvious, so tell me, what kind of music do you like?"

"Um…"

She was getting impatient.

"Dude, chill. I'm fourteen. I'm not going to kill you if you say something stupid. So, please, who is the allusive Kurt Hummel?"

"I SWEAR, DEL, IF YOU SAY ANYTHING TO EMBARRASS ME I WILL PERSONALLY—!" her brother continued to holler, but the end of his (hollow) threat was drowned out by Kurt actually saying something coherent. Wow.

"Why did you steal his phone?" His voice was nice, definitely a singer.

"Because he was being mopey and these days his phone is the only way to motivate him," she said very matter-of-factly.

"Oh," he said, his tone somewhere between concerned and endearing. "Why's he moping?"

"Because he's a sentimental sap. And he's officially added every Keane song he owns to his 'too emotion-provoking to function' playlist."

"He has a playlist for—?"

"I'm just kidding. Seriously, though, he's ruined that band for himself." She laughed. "Now, tell me, what about you. Do you have a 'too emotion-provoking to function' playlist?"

"I have…something of the sort."

She snorted back a laugh. "I'm sorry," she chuckled again. "That was so not what I was expecting to hear!"

"WHAT WERE'NT YOU EXPECTING? C'MON, DEL, GIVE ME BACK MY PHONE!"

"Is that him screaming?" Kurt said quickly.

"Yeah. He kinda got out of the moping and into the screaming once his phone rang."

"Hmm."

"DEL!" There was another round of heavy rapping on her door.

"You know what, Kurt? I kinda like you, but I'm afraid that if I hold his phone hostage any longer, I will need to get a new door."

"Oh, um…is he really that mad?"

"Probably not." She reached for the doorknob, but paused. "One more thing, Kurt?"

"Hmm?"

"What the hell is a Barbaravention?"

"Um…" he hemmed and hawed for a second. "I figure someone must have recorded it. I'll send you a video."

"Sounds good." She opened the door just as Blaine was bout to delve into another string of rants. He was poised in front of the door, his face red and a finger in the air. "Your boyfriend." She handed him the phone casually and turned back into her room, closing the door behind her.

"Kurt…? Yeah, hi." She could hear him through the door. "No, I have not shunned Keane… Yeah…? Well I'm glad you like her… probably not for a long time…"

She smiled and sat down on her bed. She was so glad he wasn't moping; she couldn't stand to see him sad.

She still wished she had recorded it, though.

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